Last spring, my sister encouraged me to read "Life Interrupted" by Jen Hatmaker. She said I would like it and I do really enjoy Jen's humor and perspective on life, but I was hesitant to pick it up. Why? Because I was afraid God would use it to call me to do something hard. I really don't like life interruptions at all and, as a military spouse, my life is interrupted every 2-3 years by a move as it is.
While Jen's book is her story of how God called them to leave the life of comfort they enjoyed in order to minister to the homeless of Austin, TX, it is not a book that calls everyone to do that. Instead, it is a call to allow God to interrupt the comfort of your life to do whatever it is He is calling you to do.
As I read it, I felt a stirring to do something different, to step out in faith, but I had no idea what step I should take.
Last year we lived outside of Boston and we came in frequent contact with homeless people asking for help. They stood outside at busy stoplights; they were vocal at the entrance to the T (the local subway); one older woman slept on the T with her bags surrounding her. Our boys had many questions about these people: How did they become homeless? Why don't they use the Rescue Missions? Why don't they get jobs? Why is she sleeping on the T with all those bags around her?
Meanwhile, I fought to answer a different set of questions--How do I help them? How do I know who to help? Where do I even begin? There was one young woman huddled on the floor of a subway tunnel whose hopeless and desperate eyes still haunt me. Tears sprang to my eyes after we passed her and I longed to go back and help, but I didn't know how. Because of these encounters and because there is a powerful story in "Life Interrupted" about giving away brand new cowboy boots that moved me and because the book was about the Hatmakers' ministry to the homeless, I erroneously thought God was calling me to that same type of ministry.
I waited for Him to make it clear how I was supposed to live this out in my life, but answers never came and I began to get restless.
In the midst of this internal struggle, we relocated to the DC area. When we arrived in DC, the excitement of our new adventure was over-shadowed for me by a growing restlessness and discouragement. In spite of being welcomed by several people we already knew and loved, I felt adrift in our new location. I couldn't put my finger on the problem, though, and I tried to explain it in terms I understood from previous experience:
- It was just due to two moves in two years. But that didn't really explain it because it was a move we knew would happen and were actually looking forward to.
- It must be the annual struggle I face as a homeschooling mom--"This isn't enough, I should be doing more than 'just' homeschooling". But as my husband lovingly pointed out, that didn't make sense in the Fall when I was gearing up for the year--that struggle usually hits in February.
- It must be grief from moving. But I wondered whether I would actually grieve a place I didn't mind leaving when no other move had affected me in that way.
I finally gave up trying to figure it out and attempted to ignore it by throwing myself into the busyness of our new life.
If you read my blog post "Why you will find us in a movie theater on Sunday morning", you already know part of the rest of the story.......And it involves another book.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Sunday, September 25, 2016
The chase begins...... (Part 1)
This is me, chasing a lion.....into a pit.....on a snowy day. With all the fear and trembling that goes with that. If you want to understand what I mean by those words, you will have to stick with me over the next few blog posts because I will unravel it, but I'm going to tell the story from the beginning.
For as long as I can remember, books have been my passion. I read as often as life permits.....and sometimes when it doesn't. One of my earliest memories is getting off the bus in elementary school and walking home while reading a book. I walked right past my house because my nose was literally in the book. Eventually, I looked up and retraced my steps, but I never put the book down.
When I gave my boys a hard time that "I never had a DS or game system to play while I watched my siblings' games", my husband whispered to them, "But she probably had a book!" We all laughed, but he was right. I carried a book everywhere I went. And I was always annoyed if I finished it and had nothing else to read.
All through school, I wrote and edited whenever the opportunity presented itself. When our elementary and junior high schools published student's work, I volunteered to edit. I chose journalism as an elective in high school and wrote for the school newspaper. I eventually worked my way up to editor and loved every minute of it. In college, I wrote for the yearbook.
Words are important to me. Words I read or hear or say or write. They impact me more than almost anything else. If you know me, you have most likely heard me say, "I read this....." or "Have you read this?" If you are sharing a problem with me, I have probably offered help from something I read.
While words have never stopped being important to me, I stopped writing them. I often think "Why would anyone want to read what I write? There is so much good stuff out there!"
About 2 years ago, I began experiencing a very distinct call to write. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it in December of 2015. I have not been consistent, but the persistence of God's voice about it has been! My question hasn't changed--I still ask "Why? What could I possibly say that is interesting or has not already been said?" And yet, here I am. I cannot shake the conviction that this is something I am supposed to be doing.
There is more to the story, but this is the beginning. This is where I face my fear and chase that lion. I may fall flat on my face and this whole thing was just an exercise in obedience to the still, small voice I keep hearing that says, "Write!"
But in the end, isn't that the most important thing? The obedience even when we cannot understand or see the result. We ask that of our kids, right? We ask them to obey even before their minds can comprehend why we ask them not to run into the street or touch the hot stove or a million other little things. I have told my boys, "You need to obey first. Then you may ask 'Why?'" So, here I am, obeying my Heavenly Father before I understand the why.
For as long as I can remember, books have been my passion. I read as often as life permits.....and sometimes when it doesn't. One of my earliest memories is getting off the bus in elementary school and walking home while reading a book. I walked right past my house because my nose was literally in the book. Eventually, I looked up and retraced my steps, but I never put the book down.
When I gave my boys a hard time that "I never had a DS or game system to play while I watched my siblings' games", my husband whispered to them, "But she probably had a book!" We all laughed, but he was right. I carried a book everywhere I went. And I was always annoyed if I finished it and had nothing else to read.
All through school, I wrote and edited whenever the opportunity presented itself. When our elementary and junior high schools published student's work, I volunteered to edit. I chose journalism as an elective in high school and wrote for the school newspaper. I eventually worked my way up to editor and loved every minute of it. In college, I wrote for the yearbook.
Words are important to me. Words I read or hear or say or write. They impact me more than almost anything else. If you know me, you have most likely heard me say, "I read this....." or "Have you read this?" If you are sharing a problem with me, I have probably offered help from something I read.
While words have never stopped being important to me, I stopped writing them. I often think "Why would anyone want to read what I write? There is so much good stuff out there!"
About 2 years ago, I began experiencing a very distinct call to write. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it in December of 2015. I have not been consistent, but the persistence of God's voice about it has been! My question hasn't changed--I still ask "Why? What could I possibly say that is interesting or has not already been said?" And yet, here I am. I cannot shake the conviction that this is something I am supposed to be doing.
There is more to the story, but this is the beginning. This is where I face my fear and chase that lion. I may fall flat on my face and this whole thing was just an exercise in obedience to the still, small voice I keep hearing that says, "Write!"
But in the end, isn't that the most important thing? The obedience even when we cannot understand or see the result. We ask that of our kids, right? We ask them to obey even before their minds can comprehend why we ask them not to run into the street or touch the hot stove or a million other little things. I have told my boys, "You need to obey first. Then you may ask 'Why?'" So, here I am, obeying my Heavenly Father before I understand the why.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Why you will find us in a movie theater on Sunday morning
It is unexpected. Who would have thought we would be at a movie theater every Sunday morning? I even fought it, thinking this could simply not be the place for us. Now, if you know us very well at all, you know that we are typically in church on Sunday mornings. So, why a movie theater? Because that's where we go to church!
Months before we move, we begin praying and searching for the right church for us at our next assignment. I do on-line research, ask friends and Facebook-land, and sometimes even listen to podcasts before we ever leave our previous assignment. Finding the church God wants us in is one of the most important decisions we make when we move. This time, we even chose a house near where we thought we would go to church. It is not a decision we take lightly because we know that finding the church God wants us in will not only help us grow, but will also be a big part of making us feel like we are "home" in our new location.
Before this move, I had several close friends tell us about an amazing church in the area. So many people who know us and know what we look for in a church pointed us to this one that I really didn't do much research. I looked on their website and listened to a sermon and agreed with everyone--this would most likely be our church when we got here.
But something strange happened and it started a few months before we moved. I read a book called "Life Interrupted" by Jen Hatmaker and God started stirring something in me. We lead a relatively sheltered life, surrounded by people like us and going through life much the same as almost every other middle-class white family in America. Sure, there are differences, but for the most part, we fit a stereotype. And God began challenging that with this book. The specifics are for a different blog post entirely, but that challenge is a key element in how I perceived church when we moved.
We attended the first church once. And you know what? It was great! There is absolutely nothing wrong with that church at all. The music sounded good. The preaching was great! They had amazing programs for each one of us. Everyone there looked like us. But it didn't fit. It was shocking, really. I expected to love it!
Because I assumed that would be our church and hadn't done any other research, we had to go back to the drawing board. For years Chris has listened to podcasts by Pastor Mark Batterson at National Community Church on Capital Hill and Chris found a campus of NCC near us. He tried it while the boys and I were out of town and he said, "You're going to love the worship!" And he was right! But I had a hard time picturing loving a church that met in a movie theater and watching the pastor on a screen.
When we visited NCC as a family, I knew Chris had found the church God was leading us to.....The worship was authentic and Spirit-filled. Jonathan liked being with us for worship and then also enjoyed his class. Michael found the preaching relatable. It didn't feel weird to watch the pastor on a screen, especially when the campus pastor made it feel like your own church and not just an unimportant arm of a larger church. But you know what sealed the deal for me? NOT EVERYONE LOOKED LIKE US!!!
As we talked after church that first Sunday, I told my family, "I think we could grow at [the other church], but I think we will be challenged at this one." And we are!
God began doing something in me when I read "Life Interrupted" and it appears He isn't done. I don't know exactly what it is, but it's pretty clear to me that it will be something out of my stereotype since we go to church at a movie theater and I love it!
Months before we move, we begin praying and searching for the right church for us at our next assignment. I do on-line research, ask friends and Facebook-land, and sometimes even listen to podcasts before we ever leave our previous assignment. Finding the church God wants us in is one of the most important decisions we make when we move. This time, we even chose a house near where we thought we would go to church. It is not a decision we take lightly because we know that finding the church God wants us in will not only help us grow, but will also be a big part of making us feel like we are "home" in our new location.
Before this move, I had several close friends tell us about an amazing church in the area. So many people who know us and know what we look for in a church pointed us to this one that I really didn't do much research. I looked on their website and listened to a sermon and agreed with everyone--this would most likely be our church when we got here.
But something strange happened and it started a few months before we moved. I read a book called "Life Interrupted" by Jen Hatmaker and God started stirring something in me. We lead a relatively sheltered life, surrounded by people like us and going through life much the same as almost every other middle-class white family in America. Sure, there are differences, but for the most part, we fit a stereotype. And God began challenging that with this book. The specifics are for a different blog post entirely, but that challenge is a key element in how I perceived church when we moved.
We attended the first church once. And you know what? It was great! There is absolutely nothing wrong with that church at all. The music sounded good. The preaching was great! They had amazing programs for each one of us. Everyone there looked like us. But it didn't fit. It was shocking, really. I expected to love it!
Because I assumed that would be our church and hadn't done any other research, we had to go back to the drawing board. For years Chris has listened to podcasts by Pastor Mark Batterson at National Community Church on Capital Hill and Chris found a campus of NCC near us. He tried it while the boys and I were out of town and he said, "You're going to love the worship!" And he was right! But I had a hard time picturing loving a church that met in a movie theater and watching the pastor on a screen.
When we visited NCC as a family, I knew Chris had found the church God was leading us to.....The worship was authentic and Spirit-filled. Jonathan liked being with us for worship and then also enjoyed his class. Michael found the preaching relatable. It didn't feel weird to watch the pastor on a screen, especially when the campus pastor made it feel like your own church and not just an unimportant arm of a larger church. But you know what sealed the deal for me? NOT EVERYONE LOOKED LIKE US!!!
As we talked after church that first Sunday, I told my family, "I think we could grow at [the other church], but I think we will be challenged at this one." And we are!
God began doing something in me when I read "Life Interrupted" and it appears He isn't done. I don't know exactly what it is, but it's pretty clear to me that it will be something out of my stereotype since we go to church at a movie theater and I love it!
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